


By Vigor and Resolution

by withthekeyisking



Series: Sladick Fics [34]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha Slade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Power Dynamics, Same Dynamic Omegaverse, Slade is a bit of an ass, SladeRobin Week, and Dick would really like to hit him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: When King Bruce agreed to an arranged marriage between one of his children and King Slade of Grevemort to form an alliance, they all assumed the chosen child would be an omega.None of them knew that King Slade's tastes ran far more towards alphas, and that lack of knowledge is really biting Dick in the ass.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: Sladick Fics [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1307747
Comments: 137
Kudos: 479
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is my title from a Jane Austen quote chosen at absolute random? Why yes, yes it is.
> 
> Also this is my first time writing omegaverse? I hope y'all enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SladeRobin Week 2020 Day 3: **Arranged Marriage** | Bounty on Robin(s) | Slavery

Dick leans back in his seat, observing his siblings across from him with amusement.

Jason is playing with the knife that usually sits on his belt, and Damian is making every attempt to take it from him, growing more and more frustrated when he fails each time. Tim, sitting at Dick's side, is watching as well, a grin tugging at his lips.

It's been a long journey; they're all taking entertainment where they can get it by this point, after weeks on the road.

The carriage jolts as one of the wheels hits something, probably a rock, and Damian twists around to scowl at the partition that separates them from the driver.

"Damian," Bruce says calmly, without even glancing up from his book. "We're almost there; if you could refrain from antagonizing the guards any further, that would be lovely."

Damian scowls, but does sink back down.

Jason and Cass, however, have looked to Bruce. "We're almost there?" Jason asks.

Bruce looks up now, probably hearing the slight nervousness in the omega's voice that Dick picks up on too, and gives a reassuring smile. "Just a few miles out, now. Should be arriving shortly." He glances over his children, gaze critical as he takes in their slouched forms and loosened clothing. "So if you all could start to make yourselves presentable..."

From anyone else, that would sound chastising, maybe even annoyed. From Bruce, there's only exasperation.

Dick redoes the clasps of his doublet, and then reaches down to pick up Cass' shoes and pass them over to her so she can put them back on. He turns his eyes on the others, making sure they're following suit; Damian is, of course, already perfectly dressed, having barely relaxed at all during the journey. Jason is brushing a hand back through his hair, making sure it's in some form of order. Tim is fixing his doublet as well, frowning when one of the clasps proves itself challenging.

All of them are silent, and remain that way, something serious draping over all of them.

They've been readying themselves for this for months, so you'd think they'd all be calm, and be unbothered and keep laughing as they were only five minutes ago. Dick would like to, would like to hold onto that joy, but it's hard when they're so close to losing one of their own.

Maybe that's a rather dramatic way of looking at it. Arranged marriages happen all the time, after all. This is nothing new. Expected, even, for a royal family. Bruce has five children, and more than likely at least three of them would marry those chosen for them, for the betterment of Gotham. None of them have been resentful of that, especially because Bruce always takes their wishes into account when it comes to things like that.

So really, this shouldn't be a big deal. But...

But this time, it's a marriage for times of war. This time, one of their own is going to marry a man they've only ever met once, years ago. This time, they don't even _know_ who they're going to lose yet, so they've been preparing to miss two of their siblings, instead of just one.

The deal was a strange one, maybe, but one with acceptable terms. They need Grevemort's help, after all. They have resources that Gotham _needs_ in order to defeat Nanda Parbat, a kingdom with what feels like infinite strength and keeps trying to take Gotham down. They need Grevemort, and King Slade was well aware of that fact.

He could've asked for quite a lot more than he did, really. And then wishing to be able to choose which royal child he would wed to solidify the alliance? Annoying, maybe, but not unreasonable.

Dick can't even imagine what Jason and Cass have been feeling the last few months. They're being so strong, going into this with their heads held high, never letting their anxiety over it really show. They're the two omegas of the family, after all. It will be one of them.

One of them that Dick won't get to see except on the very rare occasion. One of his little siblings whom he's not going to be able to hold and laugh with and have their support as the years slowly pull him towards what his role in all of this is.

Crown prince. King, one day.

Dick's been training for it and learning to fill the role most of his life, and still it's such a strange thing to think of, him sitting on a throne. It might give him some more power, though. Over when he gets to see Jason or Cass. He hopes so, at the very least.

The carriage slowly pulls to a stop. Jason swallows and squares his shoulders. Cass draws in a slow breath and lets it out evenly.

"Ready?" Bruce asks, and receives a pair of firm nods. "Alright then."

There's a greeting party ready for them when they all exit the carriage, knights and servants and a beta standing in front of them all wearing clothing indicating that he's a lord, and clearly a high-ranking soldier.

"Welcome," the beta says with a small bow and a crisp accent that makes Dick think of Alfred, Bruce's head of staff. "I am William Wintergreen; how was your journey?"

Strange that he didn't call himself _lord_ or even _general,_ but then again Dick's known many soldiers who've never cared about titles, and tend to leave them out.

"Smooth," Bruce answers, stepping forward. Gone is the easy posture and relaxed expression from their ride, in its place the powerful King of Gotham. "We encountered no trouble on the road."

"Excellent," Wintergreen replies, offering a kind smile. "If you would allow me to escort you in...?"

The man leads them into the castle, then to the throne room. Guards line the walls in regular intervals, and on the throne sits the man they've come to make an alliance with.

King Slade Wilson is pretty well-known through the lands. A king of war, one who enjoys the battlefield and the hunt. Strategic, intelligent, wins _far_ more than he ever loses. Doesn't often get himself or his kingdom involved in outside matters. Not a fan of outsiders. An alpha, and a powerful one at that.

Dick can see it all in the way the man sits, how calmly he holds himself, the sheer _size_ of him threatening even if the weapons clearly on his person didn't convey that. There's an eyepatch covering one of his eyes, and Dick finds himself curious about how he lost it.

The king rises to his feet when they approach. He looks at Bruce. "Wayne."

Bruce doesn't react to the lack of title, simply returns in kind. "Wilson."

One side of Slade's mouth ticks up, and he offers his hand, which Bruce shakes. Dick doesn't see any signs of posturing, any attempt to intimidate Bruce—an alpha at least a decade and a half younger, but carrying himself as if he's always the one in control—and the hands are released with little fanfare.

Then the king turns his attention to where Dick and his siblings stand, Dick just behind Bruce's right shoulder, as his second, and the others in a line behind them, Jason and Cass in the middle.

His eye slides over them, nostrils flaring slightly as he takes a deep breath, probably seeing what he could smell from them. Not much, at that distance. Bruce always taught them how to control their scents.

"Your children," Slade says, and Bruce nods, shifting to look at them. He offers Jason and Cass a gentle smile where Slade can't see, and they both step forward.

"These are my second and third eldest, Jason and Cassandra," Bruce introduces. They both give small bows, an action that makes Slade's lips quirk up even further, amused; common practice would have male omegas bowing deeply, and female ones curtseying instead. But Gotham has always been different.

"A pleasure to meet you," the king says smoothly, offering a small bow of his own. "I appreciate that these last few months have probably been... _hard_ for you."

There's something about the way he says that that has Dick's eyes narrowing, but Jason and Cass don't react at all, Jason simply offering a slightly sharp smile and saying, "Not at all. It's been like a game, wondering what's going to happen."

Bruce's lips purse, and Slade's eyes sparkles with something like amusement. "I'm sure. But you needn't worry; you won't be in my kingdom for too long. I'm sure you're eager to return home."

The confusion hits them all immediately. Won't be here long? Does Slade intend to marry one of them and then send them _back_ to Gotham, not stay here? Dick wouldn't complain about that at all, but it simply doesn't make any _sense._

"Oh?" Bruce says, a prompt for more information. His eyes are narrowed slightly, trying to work out what the other king's game is, and Slade only looks at him placidly before his eyes shift past him to where Dick stands.

"Prince Richard, correct?" he says, not really a question. Dick nods cautiously anyway. "It's a shame we could only meet properly now, a few days before the wedding. I'm sure you'd prefer a period of _courting_ before it actually happens."

Dick blinks. Runs the words over in his mind; finds they still don't make any sense. Blinks again. "I don't take your meaning."

Oh yes, that's definitely amusement in his eye, his expression. Barely any attempt made to conceal it.

"I'm choosing you," Slade says, slowly and clearly, gaze locked very firmly onto Dick's.

Dick blinks again, and then he starts to laugh.

"I'm quite serious," Slade says, looking unbothered by Dick's humor.

"You are trying to say you want to marry Dick?" Bruce cuts in, and Slade finally drags his gaze away, looking at the other king. Dick's laughter dies off, dread taking its place when he sees that Bruce is taking this seriously.

But, no way. Slade _has_ to be joking.

"Our deal was that I could pick from your children," Slade says easily. "Richard is one of your children, is he not?"

"Richard is also an alpha," Bruce says slowly. His eyes are narrowed again, calculating and displeased.

Slade looks amused. "I noticed that, yes. Though he is pretty like an omega, isn't he."

Dick bristles as that eye lands on him again, something heated in it. He's heard comments like that before, usually said with a sneer. Usually meant to make him feel less than, or weak. It's never worked before, and it's _certainly_ not going to work now.

"You can't be serious," Tim protests, frowning.

"Deadly," Slade says. He doesn't bend under the force of everyone staring at him incredulously, at the way many of their scents are souring. His expression remains placid, his posture relaxed.

He's serious. He's actually serious. He wants to...

What the _fuck._

"You signed the agreement, did you not?" Slade prompts Bruce. "You agreed to my terms. I get my _pick."_

Bruce's teeth grind. He doesn't say what they're all thinking, that yes, he agreed, but it seemed _obvious_ that his 'pick' would be an omega.

That's how these things go! Alpha-alpha relationships exist, of course they do, hell Dick would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy a wide variety of things—but actual arranged marriages? No, eighty percent of the time that is alpha-omega. And the other twenty percent still involves one person with, ah, _one_ set of parts and the other person with the other.

This is ridiculous. It has to be a joke.

"Yes," Bruce grits out.

"Yes," Slade echoes with a smile. "And my _pick_ is Richard. Now, do you intend to hold up your end of the bargain? Or should I have Wintergreen see you out?"

Bruce doesn't back down, holding Slade's gaze, the line of his shoulders tense. He looks like he's just barely holding back a snarl, while Slade just smirks smugly at him.

He knew they'd misunderstand, Dick realizes. He knew they'd assume the 'pick' would be an omega, like any sane person. Because he knew that Bruce would never agree so easily to a marriage between Slade and Dick.

Dick is the crown prince—he's supposed to stay in Gotham. Whoever he marries is supposed to become _his_ queen/king consort, not the other way around. Slade would've had to offer them a _lot_ more for this arrangement to go through.

But Bruce didn't specify Slade _couldn't_ choose Dick.

Bruce looks to Dick, then. Whatever he sees in Dick's expression makes his lips purse, and he turns back to Slade and says, "May my family and I go somewhere to discuss this?"

"Of course," Slade agrees, eye sparkling. "Wintergreen will escort you to a place you can speak in private."

Bruce nods shortly, and then turns on his heels and strides back towards the door, where the beta from before is waiting.

Dick turns to follow him, pausing for a moment when he feels Slade's gaze on him once more. When Dick meets it, the king inclines his head, smirking.

Dick turns and rushes after his family.

* * *

Dick leans against the wall, following a breathing exercise his parents taught him when he was very young. He keeps his eyes fixed out the window on the other side of the room, examining the changing leaves on the tree that stretches towards the sky right outside.

The others are shouting.

Well, Bruce would probably argue that he's _not_ shouting, that they're simply having a _passionate discussion,_ but the aggression is thick in the air anyway, and raised voices are just about the only thing Dick can hear.

He's trying to tune them all out; he doesn't want to hear what they all think of this, what their opinions are on the _loophole_ they've all found themselves. It just...doesn't matter right now. It'll just make him more anxious, anyway.

Not that they're making themselves easy to ignore.

Damian has quite a few strong opinions on whether or not the union of an alpha to another alpha is even allowed, and if that can be their way out of this. Tim is trying to figure out why Slade would even want this, considering he's a king and Dick can't exactly give him an heir. Jason is simply frustrated, and scared, which means he's getting angry, because being angry is so much easier than being vulnerable.

It's almost sweet, how protective they all are. But Dick barely has it in him to enjoy how thoroughly they've come together. Because this is...

This wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to have a say in his future—Bruce _promised_ him. And maybe that sounds selfish, because both Cass and Jason were ready to marry Slade for the good of the kingdom but Dick—is an alpha.

Call it sexist if you like, but it's how things go. Dick is an alpha and the _crown prince,_ he doesn't get sent off to another kingdom to marry another alpha.

The person he was supposed to marry would probably be arranged, that's the norm, but Bruce was going to let him have a say in who. And hell, that marriage might've even been to another alpha! Princess Koriand'r, for instance, has made her interest known in the past, and she's something spectacular.

His marriage was always going to have the purpose of uniting Gotham to another land, but it was going to be...his choice. The person who would rule Gotham at his side would be _his choice._

Cass and Jason were supposed to have a choice in who they married, too. But at least they've had _months_ to come to terms with this.

Dick has literally no time at all.

One of them should've noticed the damn loophole. They should've forced a clarification. But it just...it felt so obvious. The same kind of obvious as rain falling from the sky and leaves changing colors in the fall. Everyone in the _world_ would've thought it was obvious.

King Slade Wilson is apparently not like everyone else.

Dick can still see his smug smirk in his mind, taking pleasure from their confusion and irritation. He seems like a fucking asshole. Dick is going to marry a fucking asshole.

Because he knows he's going to say yes. Of _course_ he's going to agree, that's not in question. It's for _Gotham,_ after all. Him doing this will help his kingdom. How on earth could he say no to that? He could never be that selfish, that cruel. His people need him, his _family_ needs him. He'll always do his duty.

He just never thought this would be what his duty became.

Bruce raised him from the moment he took him in to one day become king of Gotham. All of his lessons, all of that training—there was one goal in mind. Bruce was raising someone he could trust to sit on the throne after him, and Dick has done everything to be worthy of that. To prove himself more than the little orphan Bruce took into his home.

And now he's going to be Slade's possession. As nothing more than a consort, he will be virtually powerless. The only rights he'll have will be the ones gifted to him by his husband, and Slade Wilson is not a man known for his mercy. Nor his cruelty, maybe, but it would be well within his rights to do whatever the hell he wanted with Dick.

If Slade wants nothing more than a pretty thing to fuck, then that's all Dick will be.

That's the worst part of it; Dick's life won't even be his own anymore. All of his control will be gone. He's leaving his home, his family, his future, all to be put at the whims of a king whose reputation is all about carnage.

Bruce might've said they're going to discuss this, but there's truly nothing to discuss, at the end of the day.

None of them notice when he slips out the door.

One of Slade's guards is standing outside the room, and doesn't hesitate to bring him back to the throne room when he says he wants to speak to the king.

Slade is sitting once more on the throne. This time there's a small wood table beside it, which holds a jug of some kind, a few leaves of paper, and a silver goblet. He's sprawled comfortably, as if sitting in a lounge instead of on the seat of power. His legs are spread casually, his posture relaxed as he lifts the goblet to his lips and takes a sip.

"Prince Richard," he greets, smirking. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dick suppresses the urge to scowl, instead approaching until he's a few feet in front of the man. He keeps himself calm and collected; this is someone who is taking pleasure from their stress—he refuses to give him any more ammunition.

"I'm going to want to reread the agreement you and Bruce both signed before anything happens," Dick says firmly. "To check for any other... _technicalities_ that might be waiting."

Slade's lips twitch. "Alright."

Dick examines him for a moment; it's so obvious he already knows he's won, long before Dick even entered the room. He's so sure of himself. It makes Dick want to tell him no, just to see the surprise, just to catch this man off-guard. If it weren't for Gotham on the line, he would.

"Then fine," Dick says tightly. "I accept your rather under-handed proposal."

Slade smiles and leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs. "A wise decision, Richard. Tell me—did they have to talk you into marrying the big bad _alpha,_ or are you the stalwart prince, ready to sacrifice for the sake of your kingdom?"

"Is this fun for you?" Dick asks with a scowl.

The king pretends to consider his answer. "You do look nice all riled up, Richard. I am looking forward to seeing it more often." He chuckles at the way Dick's expression twists and then leans back again, saying, "You needn't look like you're heading to the gallows, Prince. I'm not an unfair king."

"No, you're just one who purposefully used vague language to force another kingdom into giving you something you want."

"That's simply called being clever," Slade corrects. "And it's not my fault that your father didn't think to clarify. If it was _vague,_ he should've asked. I thought it was rather clear, really—I could marry any of his children. It was right in the print, Richard. It's an error on your part, not mine, that you didn't look past your own biases."

Dick bares his teeth, far more of a challenge than he intended to reach in this conversation, and Slade's eye narrows in response. Suddenly really curious to see what he'll do, and not willing to back down, Dick deepens his snarl and lets out a low growl.

Slade's lips pull back from his teeth and his hand tightens around his goblet, but he doesn't stand. "You don't want to fight me," he says. "Not now, not like this. Not with your family in the next room. If you want to challenge me at some point, then by all means, _boy,_ you are welcome to. Is that moment really right now?"

No, it's not. Frankly doing it at _all_ is stupid, especially after they get married, when Slade would be well within his rights to respond in any way he wanted. But it's hard for Dick to get himself to back down. Some part of him _really_ wants a fight, especially when faced with how smug Slade is, how sure of his control. He wants a _fight_ and then he wants—

Dick takes a deep breath and counts to ten, calming himself down. It is bad to antagonize the king who basically has Gotham in the palm of his hand right now. Dick has the rest of his life to be pissed; right now? Right now his job is to be the pretty little prize that seals the deal of their alliance.

Gotham and his family first—his wants later.

"My apologies," Dick grits out, making an effort to relax his tense shoulders, to stop being as coiled tight as he feels.

In response, Slade also relaxes, easing back into his seat. His half-snarl instead evens out into something closer to a smirk, and his eye drags up and down Dick's body, heated, making Dick swallow.

"You know," Slade drawls, "it's proper to kneel for your king."

Dick's eyes narrow, resisting the urge to punch that smug smile off the man's face. "We aren't married yet," he says coolly. "And until then, you are _not_ my king."

Slade hums, smirk growing, showing a hint of teeth that sends a thrill of _something_ down Dick's spine.

"Yet," Slade agrees. "A shame, that; I do so look forward to seeing you on your knees for me. Something to look forward to."

Dick bites back the scathing comment that wants to erupt from him at that, settling for saying, "Yeah, good luck with that."

Slade simply smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this! The second chapter of this will be coming out tomorrow for Day 4, so stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SladeRobin Week 2020 Day 4: **Same Dynamic Omegaverse** | Hands Free Orgasm | Identity Porn
> 
> Was having a little trouble with my uploading power so this is a bit delayed, but I hope worth the wait!
> 
> Also this fic already has art???? And my heart can barely take it???? Everyone please check out [this beautiful piece](https://twitter.com/Meltapia8/status/1321576716075237377)!

Dick wanders out onto the field, watching curiously as the soldiers run through their drills.

It's not all that different from Gotham, really. There's a difference in fighting styles for sure, but Dick recognizes clear patterns in the practices and sparring that he sees back home, too.

It's kind of amusing that the most familiar thing so far about this place is the fact that no matter where you are, you'll still be able to find soldiers ready to fight.

It's been about a day since Dick and his family arrived in Grevemort. In that time, he's only seen Slade twice—when they first met with him, and then at dinner. Otherwise, he's left them strangely to their own devices, claiming that they're grown ups and he doesn't need to babysit them.

Dick finds it strange. They're not Slade's enemies, of course, but giving a royal family from another kingdom complete free-range access to your palace and grounds? Free to go anywhere they want? It's practically begging for something to happen. So either Slade truly doesn't care about whatever they might find, or he's confident that none of them will go searching.

A tall ask, considering he's garnered the dislike of almost the entire family.

They've all been exploring in their own way, and Dick's mapped quite a lot of the palace (both out of curiosity and a desire to know the place he's going to be living) by the time he wanders outside to check out the training fields.

His hands itch for a blade. During their journey here they only had a couple opportunities to train, not anything close to what they would be doing back home, and Dick's missed it. His duel blades sit with his other possessions in his room, and he longs for their grip, for any excuse to interrupt one of the sparring matches going on and cut in.

Maybe he can convince Jason to train with him later; he's sure his little brother is just as anxious for something to do as he is.

When Dick reaches the far end of the field, he pulls to a stop in surprise, eyes widening as he takes in the deadly display.

There are four opponents, all wielding their blades expertly, striking and swerving with the ease of excellent training. They're captivating to watch, and his focus is so much on the movements that it takes him a moment to actually notice that one of the men involved is Slade.

He's certainly earned his reputation, that's for sure. The man can _fight,_ practically running circles around the others who are still extremely skilled. He's faster than Dick would expect a man of his size to be, and those muscles clearly aren't for show, each of his strikes forceful and vicious, a large blade in his hand.

Dick can admire...the skill involved. Slade might be an ass, but he's a skilled one.

When the fight ends with Slade as the last one standing, the others all unconscious or groaning on the ground, Dick isn't the slightest bit surprised.

The man turns and looks at him then, accepting a towel someone hands him and wiping it across the back of his neck. His gaze is heavy and appraising, and Dick lifts his chin, refusing to back down even though he has to fight the urge to fidget.

Slade's lips curl up into a smirk. "Feel like a spar, Prince? We have twin blades available, if you'd like."

Dick has to fight to keep the surprise off his face; clearly Slade knows things about him. Makes sense, since he specifically chose Dick to marry before even _seeing_ him, but still...odd. Gotham and Grevemort haven't interacted all that much over the years. Strange, then, that he knows Dick's preferences.

"Sure," Dick agrees, chest fluttering with something like excitement. This is what he's been wanting, and against Slade? Quite the fun way to take out some of his aggression.

He steps forward, watching the soldiers pull themselves to their feet and stumble over to the grass. Slade gestures towards a rack of weapons off to the side and Dick eyes it critically before stepping forward and grabbing the swords Slade mentioned.

They're a little heavier than Dick's normal ones, but the length is almost perfect and the grips have blue coloring that seems—purposeful. These are actually here for him.

"This is just creepy," Dick mutters as he moves into position, spinning the swords to get a feel for them. He hears a faint huff of laughter in response, and Slade steps across from him, dragging his sword across the dirt for a moment before taking a ready stance.

Dick is used to fighting opponents larger than himself. Plus he's sparred against Bruce _countless_ times, and Slade is only a little bit bigger than him. Dick also got a look at how Slade fights, which can be an advantage. Then again, if Slade knows he favors twin blades, it's highly possibly he knows a lot about Dick's style.

Slade strikes first. The action is telegraphed enough beforehand that it's clear Slade's letting him know it's coming, simply testing the waters. Dick does not respond in kind, side-stepping the attack and striking back much more ferociously.

The side of Slade's mouth curls up, pleased, and doesn't hesitate to follow his lead.

It's almost too fast to keep track of from there. Dick barely has any time at all to think about what to do, to plan ahead. All he can do is strike, block, duck, strike, roll, spin, strike, jump, kick, strike—

It's like fighting his family, too high a level of skill for him to do anything other than keep his head in the game.

It's...exhilarating. His heart is pounding in his chest, his blood singing with adrenaline. His arms ache with the force of blocking each of Slade's powerful blows, his lungs heaving his chest under the effort of keeping himself faster than the other man. It's exhausting and challenging and requires every aspect of his focus—

And it's _wonderful._

Dick fell a little bit in love with Barbara the first time she got the drop on him in a fight. Fell a little bit in love with Roy when he out-shot him through a series of overly complicated challenges. Fell a little bit in love with Princess Korinad'r when she made it clear that she was no meek flower, and had no intention of ever pretending to be such if they were to get married.

And when Slade knocks one blade from his grip and goes for the final blow, sweeping Dick's legs out from under him—

The feeling isn't love, not even close. But it's a spark of _excitement_ that he didn't feel before, a heart-pounding _eagerness_ that hadn't been present until this moment.

Dick hits the ground _hard._

He begins to roll immediately, instinctively, but Slade is already following him down. Instead of simply putting the edge of his blade under Dick's chin, he drops as well, his solid weight sending the air out of Dick at a wheeze. One knee slams down on Dick's right forearm, making his hand spasm and drop his remaining blade, the other landing solidly beside his hip.

Only then does Dick feel the cool brush of metal against the underside of his jaw.

They stare at each other for a moment, both panting. Slade's eye is dark and half-lidded, expression lined with a desire that almost has Dick's breath catching. He's not making much of an effort to hide it, either; when Dick breathes in, Slade's scent is almost suffocating, sharp like metal and rich like coffee, and heated with lust.

It makes Dick swallow, something in his gut heating in response.

"Do you yield?" Slade rumbles, and Dick fights back a shudder, panting up at the older alpha. He tries to twist his arm, but Slade only digs his knee in harder and then his other hand is liftin towards Dick's head and grabbing his head and _yanking—_

Dick snarls instinctively, his instincts screaming against the vulnerable position as his neck is bared to another alpha, but Slade tightens his hold and keeps him still, and then leans in, his lips brushing the shell of Dick's ear as he growls, _"Give."_

Dick does shudder this time, and then he gives, head relaxing into the arch Slade's pulled it, body no longer straining for weak spots.

Slade's grip in his hair loosens just a fraction to stay firm but no longer painful, and he lets out an approving rumble, a warm sound that makes Dick think of Bruce and his parents, and it makes him tip his head back further, just for a little bit more of that.

He feels Slade's lips ghost down his neck and then back up against, settling on Dick's scent gland and kissing it.

Dick jolts, gasping, and then his eyes fly around desperately, looking for all the people who were there just a minute ago. But they're gone, somehow they're alone, the closest soldiers all the way down the field and barely able to be made out. How the hell did Slade manage this without Dick noticing?

"Just us, boy," Slade murmurs, drawing another small gasp out of Dick as the talking makes Slade's lips flutter across his scent gland. "And don't you smell so nice."

His tongue swipes over the gland, and Dick lets out a choked moan, jerking up against the man.

"Stop, don't—"

"You sure?" Slade asks, and this time he sounds amused. "Because your body is definitely telling a different story."

The blade under his jaw keeps his head tipped up and back to bare his neck, but the hand in his hair disentangles, instead sliding down his chest and then cupping Dick's hardening cock through his pants.

It draws a strained sound out of Dick, but he resists the urge to buck up into that hand and takes a deep breath instead, saying between gritted teeth, "I yielded. Now _get off of me."_

Slade pauses, and out of the corner of his eye Dick can see the corner of his mouth curl back from his teeth slightly at the way Dick's voice dipped into a growl, but when he pulls back he doesn't look upset, only smug and _aroused._

"Your wish is my command," he says mockingly, and then in one quick movement he's standing, no longer pressing Dick into the ground.

Dick feels far too warm, and he fights to even his breathing out, fights to gain some semblance of control over himself, especially when faced with how... _put together_ Slade looks, idly cleaning his sword with a rag and then sliding it into its sheath.

He's sweaty, at least. And breathing a little heavier than usual. And his pants are _definitely_ tented. It makes Dick's cheek redden, and he pushes himself to his feet.

"I admit if I had to guess which one would happen first," Slade says, smirking, "it would be you on your knees for me, before on your back. But I can't say I have any complaints."

Dick's eyes narrow, flushing even further with embarrassment. "We were sparring," he says tightly. "You're the one who decided to...take it past that."

"And I would've been a fool if I hadn't," Slade says with a sharp smile. "Waste an opportunity to have you spread out under me? Not a chance, Prince."

Dick can't think of anything to say in response. He's still feeling flustered, on edge. He hasn't had to yield to _anyone_ in quite some time, and certainly not with the...extra aspects. The way Slade's growl reached deep in his bones, the pleased rumble that almost had Dick keening. It's a ridiculous reaction. An _embarrassing_ one.

Not that Slade seems to mind. How much further would he have taken it, if Dick hadn't told him to stop? Would that hand have gone _inside_ his pants? Would he have _bit_ at the scent gland instead of just licking it? Would—

"You alright there, Richard?"

Dick's eyes snap over to the king, and finds the older alpha watching him with something knowing in his gaze that has Dick's shoulders straightening, eyes narrowed.

"Do you intend to attempt to accost me every time?" he snaps, feeling on edge. "Will actual training never actually be allowed, just some strange form of—of _foreplay_ before you have your fun with me?"

Slade's eyebrows slowly rise.

"While I'll admit a fight does often lead to other pleasurable activities," Slade says slowly, gaze calculating like he's trying to figure something out. Figure _Dick_ out. "I am confused by the apparent belief that you will not truly be continuing with training. That it will only be about my... _fun._ Care to enlighten me?"

Dick picks up his swords from the ground, partially because it gives him an excuse to break the intense eye contact and partially because it simply makes him feel more in control to have them in his hands.

"I am here to marry you," Dick says between gritted teeth, and Slade nods cautiously, like he's not quite sure what he's agreeing to yet. "I will be your— _king consort,_ a role that comes with absolutely _zero_ control over my own life, _especially_ considering I am an outsider. From the moment we get married I essentially become _yours,_ in every way that entails. You don't seem the type to care about what your _possession_ wants to do, only what would please _yourself."_

Slade's eyebrows have practically hit his hairline. He looks genuinely taken aback by Dick's declaration, and it leaves Dick feeling wrong-footed.

Then Slade begins to laugh.

"Prince Richard," he says, chuckling. "Are you under the impression that what I want from you is to be some...pretty little thing hanging on my arm?"

Dick feels his cheeks warm at the tone, but ignoring the way doubt curls in his chest, he says, "That certainly seemed to be where your interest lay, yes."

Slade shakes his head, still chuckling faintly. "Alright, I can see why you'd come to that conclusion. And I meant it when I called you pretty, though that was mainly a shot at Wayne. But have you considered at all why I prefer _alphas?"_

"You like a fight," Dick says confidently, though he's feeling less sure by the moment. "You like to _win._ It isn't about the parts someone has, it's about you being stronger, more dominant. Having alphas can give you that."

Slade's lips curve, amused. "Well, you're half right. I _do_ enjoy a fight. I enjoy the moment someone gives underneath me, when they realize I've got them beat and they go _lax._ But that doesn't mean I choose alphas so I can prove myself superior, boy. I'm not marrying an alpha brat because I want him to hang on the wall and then give a good struggle in bed; I'm doing it because _I like alphas,_ and you have a damn good reputation, kid.

"You aren't here to cater to my _fun,_ though that certainly is a bonus. That's not all you'll be doing. So knock it off with the _king consort_ bullshit. You're gonna be _mine,_ yeah, but that doesn't mean you're gonna be a possession."

Dick searches for any hint of a lie, heart pounding in his chest. Everything about this man has felt like one big smug power play, and Dick had no reason to think their marriage would be any different. But Slade sounds sincere here. He doesn't know Slade well enough to see any tells, but he...he seems sincere. And Dick wants desperately to believe it. That he's still going to have agency over his life.

"Alright?" Slade says, cocking an eyebrow.

Dick nods soundlessly, not having it in him to come up with something to say.

Slade smirks. "Good. Glad that's settled. So if that's the only thing you were worried about, I can suggest a few _fun_ activities we can get back to, now that you know you aren't gonna be a sex toy...?"

Dick's face heats up, and he straightens.

"If you'll excuse me," he says tightly, "I promised my brothers I'd join them for a late lunch."

He keeps his head held high all the way back to the castle, even when he hears Slade's laughter following him.

* * *

"Stop it," Bruce says chastisingly, hand firm on Dick's shoulder while he fixes his epaulet, and Dick's hand drops immediately from where he's been fiddling with his collar.

"Sorry," he says with a chagrined smile, and Bruce offers a smile in return, squeezing gently before stepping back.

"I think you're all set."

Normally, there would be a group of servants who would help them get ready for an event this big. But Bruce turned them all away, offering Dick his assistance instead, and Dick isn't ashamed to admit that the entire process has gotten him a little choked up.

He isn't going to be _given away_ at his wedding, but having his father help him prepare instead feels like much the same thing.

It's reminding Dick a lot of when he was young, and first living in the palace as Bruce's son. He was so unused to the types of clothing he was expected to wear, and got anxious quickly at how stuffy it all felt. He was a terror from time to time, he's sure, simply because he was scared and maybe a little panicked and nothing felt like home anymore.

Sometimes Bruce would help him dress, though. Those times would make everything else seem far less scary.

He wonders if Bruce is remembering that now just like him.

"How do I look?" Dick asks, and gives a dramatic twirl, just to see the amusement light up Bruce's eyes. He's looked so serious all day, so guilty when he doesn't think any of them are watching—same way he's seemed the last few months in Gotham around Jason and Cass.

They'll all be parting tomorrow, though. No for long, just a few months, but Dick doesn't want the last time he sees his dad for a while to be sad and guilty.

"Very handsome," Bruce compliments. "If you could only manage to not knock your crown out of place whenever you do that."

Dick snorts as Bruce reaches up to fix the offending object. "You've been trying to keep it still for eighteen years, B. I think it's time you let this one go."

Bruce meets his eyes, surprisingly serious when he says, "Never."

Dick's expression softens. "Look, it's...This isn't goodbye forever."

"I'm simply sorry you have to do this," Bruce says quietly. "This was never..."

"Bruce," Dick interrupts gently. "It's _okay,_ seriously. One of us was gonna have to do it, right? This puts Jay and Cass—and _Gotham_ —in the clear. And Slade is...not bad."

Bruce makes a face. Dick laughs.

"Surprisingly, I mean it," he says. "He's an ass, sure, and I doubt I'm ever gonna change my mind about that. But I don't think I'm going to have a...bad life here. A different one, sure, but not a bad one. Maybe even good."

Bruce examines his expression, probably trying to figure out if Dick is just lying to make him feel better, and then Dick sees some tension ease out of his shoulders.

"I'm glad," Bruce says softly. He reaches out, pulling Dick into a loose hug and scent marking him. "I want you to be happy, Dick."

"I know, B," Dick says, smiling warmly, because he does. Gotham must come first, but if Dick in this moment told him that he couldn't do this, then Bruce would sneak them all out of the castle and they'd find another way to deal with Nanda Parbat.

Dick would never ask for something like that, but knowing Bruce is willing to give it means more than the action itself.

"Good," Bruce says. He draws back and straightens Dick's clothing with a sharp eye, once again fixing Dick's crown. "Let's go get you married, then."

* * *

They already ran through what the ceremony will require, and it's barely different at all from how they'd do things in Gotham so everything really goes off without a hitch.

Dick says all the bits he's supposed to and kneels when he's instructed to _(beside_ Slade, not in front of him). Their hands are wrapped loosely together, Slade's larger one on top of his, and then Dick's crown is removed and another takes its place—heavier than the one before, but otherwise feels exactly the same.

He's very glad that public mating bites went out of style a century ago (how would that even _work_ between two alphas? What would be the process?), instead the pair of them simply sharing a kiss and scent marking each other.

And then suddenly Dick is married.

The celebrating is, of course, _extremely_ familiar. Everyone can get excited at a wedding, especially when you then provide them with flowing alcohol and good music, so the hall in which they have the banquet is loud and filled with overjoyed people.

Even if Dick wasn't feeling alright with everything, this atmosphere would be enough to have him relaxing. He's always fed off the people around him, and it makes him smile to have something this grand to end the day.

Slade doesn't force him to stay beside him at the table, instead watching with amusement as Dick's siblings drag him down to the floor to dance and play-fight and simply enjoy the time he has with them.

By the end of the night, Dick is flushed with alcohol and happiness and his throat feels very tight when he turns and sees Slade standing behind him, arms folded across his chest, something heated in his smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split this into a third chapter because I whole ass forgot there was a large chunk of the sex I didn't write 😂 so after SladeRobin Week is finished y'all can actually see them boooooooooone.
> 
> And bonus points if you know why I chose "Grevemort" for Slade's kingdom XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the first words I've written in like a month 🥳 If porn is what it takes to get through the lull, then porn it shall be! This hasn't really been edited, so just enjoy the smut.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Horsey and Nyx for all the enthusiasm, and to Epi for being Epi <3

Dick can feel his heart in his ears.

He knows it can't possibly be that loud, that there's no way Slade can hear it as well, but still he looks at the other alpha out of the corner of his eye, assessing. Slade simply continues to walk, unaware of—or maybe ignoring—how Dick keeps glancing at him.

He doesn't know why he's so nervous. It's not like he hasn't had sex before, after all. Not like he hasn't already played around with being the bottom. This isn't really all that different. Not really. So Slade's an alpha. A very big, very powerful alpha. That doesn't _really_ change anything, does it? Mechanics are the same. _Should_ be the same. They're the same, right?

They reach a dark wood door and Slade enters without hesitating, leaving the door open behind himself to invite Dick in, which Dick does after a moment of hesitation.

The room is large, as would be expected of the king's quarters. Against one wall is a bed and dresser, another has an ornate desk beside a pair of doors that lead out onto a balcony. There's a giant fire place in front of a grouping of armchairs and a couch, a filled bookcase beside it. There are also weapons pinned to the walls, various types of swords, a beautiful bow and matching arrows, some type of curved dagger that Dick wants to get his hands on, curious about its use.

Slade clears his throat, and Dick turns back around to face him, folding his hands behind his back to hide the nervous fiddling of his fingers. Slade's removed his crown by this point, and the top of his doublet is open, loosened for comfort. There are two goblets in his hands, and when he offers one to Dick, Dick takes it automatically, glancing down to see what he's been given.

It's a deep red like the wine he'd been indulging in earlier, but it smells sweeter, and when he takes a sip it tastes almost like strawberries. He lets out a pleased noise, asking, "What is this?"

"Don't drink it quickly," Slade advises, sipping from his own goblet with something like amusement. "It's still alcohol, and will sneak up on you."

"Trying to get me drunk?" Dick asks without meaning to, and Slade smirks.

"Trying to get you to calm down," he corrects. "No, I want you fully aware, Prince." He pauses, tilts his head. "Hmm, not a prince anymore, are you?"

No, not a prince anymore. A king, technically. Not of the country he expected, and not actually the one in command, but still he has the title. That's...a wild thing. He's a king. He's _married._ This wasn't just one big insane dream, it actually happened. And his husband is...Slade Wilson. An alpha, one who exudes confidence and power and showed that he has the actual skill to back it all up. And it's their wedding night.

He takes another drink from his glass, trying to settle his nerves. It's really not a big deal. This is all normal, and the mechanics are all the same. It's gonna be fine.

"Come here, boy," Slade instructs, voice low.

Dick swallows and complies, closing the distance between them and coming to a stop in front of the other alpha. Slade takes the goblet from him gently, turning to set both glasses on a nearby table. He then settles a large hand just above Dick's waist, pulling him closer until they're flush against each other.

Much like when Slade had him pinned after they sparred, Dick can't help but notice how much bigger Slade is than him. More muscled, taller, wider, practically dwarfing Dick this close. And Dick is no dainty flower, he's a fighter and a pretty damn good one. But, like this, it's very easy to understand how Slade got the reputation he has. Very easy to understand how he wins every fight he finds himself in.

"Have you ever been with another alpha?" Slade asks, still in that low voice. It rumbles through his chest and into Dick's own, making him shiver.

Dick shakes his head. "No," he says honestly. "I've...done things with an alpha before, but it never—got that far."

His words are awkward and stilted, and he hates it. Dick prides himself on his ability to remain calm and collected, to always have a clever line to toss back at someone, to have the right words to say. Slade makes that feel absolutely impossible.

Slade's nose brushes over Dick's hair, inhaling, and Dick fights back another shiver, focusing on the feeling of Slade breathing against him. The way they're positioned puts Dick's head very close to the curve of Slade's neck, and it's challenging to fight the urge to press his face forward, to follow the hint of metal and richness to the source of the other alpha's scent.

Slade's keeping it impressively well controlled, and Dick finds that he wants to make Slade lose that control, to make him unable to hold himself back.

"If I asked you to go to your knees," Slade says, drawing Dick back to the actual conversation at hand, "would you know what to do?"

Dick blushes at the question, despite the lack of mocking in the tone. And thankfully, yes, he _would_ know what to do. He and Roy tried almost everything together, and Dick found that he rather liked going down. It was a skill he continued to grow with each subsequent partner.

"Ask and find out," Dick challenges, feeling a little bit more like himself, and Slade's teeth flash as he smiles.

"Alright," Slade says indulgently. "Then would you get on your knees and suck my cock?"

The bluntness of the question somehow manages to startle Dick, who hadn't been quite sure what to expect, but he refuses to let it show. Instead he takes a few moments to pretend to consider it, and then holds eye contact as he slowly sinks to his knees.

Slade's eye flares, and Dick smirks. Feeling far more confident than a couple minutes ago, Dick reaches up and undoes the strings keeping Slade's breeches closed, and then pulls them and his underwear down his thighs. The man's cock springs free, just beginning to harden, and Dick pauses for a moment.

He can't say he's ever been with someone so...big, before. Slade is apparently proportionate all the way through, his cock no exception, and Dick can only imagine how much bigger it'll be when actually hard. And it's...supposed to go inside of him. Is that even possible? He's not an omega, he's not made to have something like this in him— _can_ he even take it?

"You're certainly helping my ego," Slade drawls, and Dick's eyes snap up to his face. There's a smirk curling the other alpha's lips, his eye dark with lust. Not a hint of embarrassment anywhere on him; not that he has anything to be embarrassed about.

Dick rolls his eyes at him and lowers his gaze again. "Your ego doesn't need any help."

"No," Slade agrees, "but the way you're staring is certainly doing it."

Dick just wants to shut him up, so he leans in, dragging his tongue up the length of Slade's cock. The man draws in a sharp breath, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and Dick, emboldened by the reaction, does it again, wrapping his hand around the base and squeezing at the faint bump where his knot would form. It pulls a quiet groan from Slade, making Dick smile, and so Dick keeps up the pressure and takes Slade into his mouth, bobbing his head and sucking, other hand raising to play with his balls.

He lets his senses fuzz out a little, focusing solely on the reactions of his partner, paying close attention to what gets a reaction, what doesn't, what makes Slade's hips jerk a little, and then doubling down on all of it. Slade's scent begins to fill his nose, lust thick in the air, and it makes Dick groan at how clear the other alpha's desire is.

The hand that slides through his hair is unexpected but welcome, and he gives a small moan of encouragement when Slade tugs on the strands, keening when Slade takes the permission and yanks more sharply. It knocks Dick out of his rhythm for a moment but he quickly gets back into it, moving to take Slade deeper into his mouth.

His jaw aches, but it's a good kind of pain, like the tingling of his scalp. He ignores both and pushes himself further, adjusting his head to let Slade's cock slide deeper and deeper, working past his gag reflex until it's in his throat.

Dick flicks his eyes up, locking onto Slade's, and swallows around him. A groan rips out of Slade, hand clenching even tighter in Dick's hair, hips jerking forward. Dick takes the motion without complaint, breathing measuredly through his nose until suddenly Slade is pulling him off in one rough movement, grabbing hold of the front of Dick's doublet and yanking him up to his feet, clashing their mouths together in a powerful kiss.

Dick moans into it, an arm wrapping around the back of Slade's neck, other gripping at his large bicep. Slade holds him tightly against his front and kisses him like he wants to devour him, and Dick feels light-headed, drunk on everything that's happening. He can smell Slade so strongly, almost overpowering. But he can smell himself, too, his lust clear as day.

One of Slade's hands slides roughly through Dick's hair, finally knocking the crown completely from his head, and neither of them pay the object any mind as it clatters to the floor. His hand settles on the back of Dick's neck and squeezes, and the simple touch has Dick's instincts rearing their head, baring his teeth into the passionate kiss and letting out a brief growl.

The sound seems to wash right off of Slade, but he does break the kiss, instead ducking his head to kiss Dick's neck, mouth moving up to his scent gland and _sucking._

Dick's legs feel like jelly, shaking and threatening to buckle as he moans, throwing his head back to grant Slade more access. Slade rumbles approvingly, a deeply pleased noise as Dick bares his neck to him, and takes full advantage, licking and sucking and nipping and making Dick shake and whine in his grasp.

"Slade," Dick gasps. "Slade."

Slade chuckles against his neck, hot breath meeting overheated skin, and doesn't let up. Dick is painfully hard, his cock straining against his pants, and he hangs onto Slade for dear life, unable to do anything but cling and moan and ride it all out.

He comes just like that, falling apart in Slade's arms, shaking. And Slade doesn't stop until Dick is wincing and tilting his head away, trying to limit his access. Slade draws back just enough to capture Dick's mouth again, and Dick can barely _breathe_ but it's so good, his entire body buzzing and surging towards Slade, desperate to be as close as possible.

Slade's hands move to Dick's chest, and he works at the bindings of his double with quick, skillful fingers, quickly opening it all the way and then shoving it down Dick's arms and to the floor, ripping off his shirt right after. Those hands move to his pants next, undoing them just as quickly and then shoving a hand inside.

It's hot and wet with cum when Slade's hand wraps around Dick's cock, and the other alpha chuckles, stroking him despite the way Dick whines at the touch so soon after coming.

"I'm gonna make you come again, boy," Slade growls in his ear, making Dick shudder. "Gonna make you scream my name. Want that, little alpha? Want me to fuck you?"

Dick groans and nods. He does, he really does. He still has no idea if this actually fucking works but he _wants_ Slade.

Slade's hands are searing hot as they slide over Dick's bare skin, along his arms and across his chest and down his back, and Dick only offers a moan of encouragement when Slade's hands push Dick's pants down over the curve of his ass, squeezing and then using that grip to lift Dick bodily into the air. Dick can't help but laugh, a breathless noise tinged with arousal.

If Slade would stop proving himself then maybe Dick could actually _think_ for a moment. Instead all he wants is for Slade to strip, for him to climb on top of him and give him everything he promised.

Dick works at the bindings keeping Slade's doublet closed, his finger fumbling far more than Slade's had but he still manages to get the thing open and push it off, throwing it somewhere and then immediately grabbing the bottom of Slade's shirt and yanking it up.

They crash down onto the bed, the wind going out of Dick as the entirety of Slade's weight rests on top of him for a moment before Slade leverages himself up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off and kicking off his boots, reaching down to tug off Dick's as well and then reaching for his pants.

Dick tries to take the brief break to clear his head, but taking deep breaths only serves to flood his senses with Slade's rich scent, thick in the air, filling the room with arousal. It's heady and intoxicating, and Dick finds his cock stirring again.

Slade hums, pleased, and Dick gasps as a large, calloused hand wraps around his cock. "The beauty of youth," Slade muses, climbing back up Dick's body, trailing kisses. "Quick to come but quick to recover, too."

He grinds down against Dick, pulling him into another kiss. Dick wraps his legs around Slade's waist to pull him closer, running his fingers through Slade's hair and gripping at his back.

Slade shifts off him briefly, reaching over to the bedside table and returning with a jar of oil. Dick watches with half-lidded eyes as the other alpha dips his fingers in the oil, and holds still as Slade's hand begins to slide down his body, drifting along the curve of his hip. Dick takes the moment of distraction to tighten his hold around Slade's waist and twists them roughly, throwing Slade onto his back and landing straddling him.

Slade blinks for a moment in surprise, and then sends Dick a sharp, pleased grin. His clean hand lands on Dick's hip and squeezes faintly, and the oil-stick one moves around to Dick's ass, one finger rubbing softly at his hole, questioning.

Dick nods shakily, offering permission, and braces his hands on Slade's chest as that finger pushes inside of him. It's not an altogether unfamiliar sensation—he's explored enough that this isn't the first time something's been inside of him—but still he finds himself tensing against it, jaw clenching as he forces himself to relax.

Slade moves slowly, pumping the finger in and out and making no moves to rush any further. He strokes Dick's hip, eye half-lidded as it slides up and down Dick's body. And Dick slowly begins to relax, rocking down against the finger, thighs clenching to either side of Slade's waist. He moans when Slade's finger pushes up against a bundle of nerves, and barely notices the second finger slipping in.

Dick groans as Slade's fingers work skillfully, his free hand releasing his hip to instead wrap around his cock. Dick's quickly hardening again under the attention, and he feels lightheaded as he rocks between Slade's hands, desperate for more of both sensations and unwilling to give up either.

"Slade," Dick gasps, "more."

Slade obliges with a sharp grin, putting more oil onto both of his hands and then slipping three fingers up his ass, other hand stroking his cock roughly, dragging a small whine out of Dick's chest.

"Come on," Dick says, grinding back against the fingers, "I—I'm ready, I'm ready. Just fuck me already."

"What if I want to hear you beg, boy?" Slade rumbles, fucking his fingers in and out roughly and drawing a thin moan from Dick. "What if I want you to beg me for my cock?"

Dick pants, trying to gather his thoughts. He doesn't have the patience right now, he doesn't think, to play Slade's game. He—he _wants_ right now. He doesn't want to wait anymore.

Dick wraps his own hand around Slade's cock, pulling a grunt out of the other alpha, and leverages himself up into a high kneel. Slade's fingers slip from his ass, and the man watches with a heated gaze as Dick slowly lowers himself down onto Slade's cock.

The stretch burns. He's never had anything this big inside of him before, and there's a small panicked part of himself that's screaming at him to stop, a warning flashing in the back of his mind that he ignores, pressing down slowly inch by inch.

Slade doesn't move, staying perfectly still underneath him and letting Dick control his descent. His hands grip at Dick's thighs when Dick eventually comes to a stop pressed all the way down, large fingers clenching rhythmically over his skin.

Dick sucks in deep gulps of air, adjusting to the strange sensation of being so full.

"Kid," Slade says, strained, "you planning on moving any time soon?"

Dick lets out a breathless laugh, a grin taking over his features as he nods. Sweaty hair falls in his face and he pushes it back, steadying himself before slowly rising. It's a strange, strange sensation, and one that sends sparks of pleasure up Dick's spine, making him shudder. He gets into a rhythm, pushing up and down, moving faster as he gets more comfortable.

Slade shifts underneath him, changing the angle, and Dick moans as the change has Slade's cock pressing up against that spot inside of him on every movement. Slade's hands are tight enough on him to leave bruises, and Dick relishes the ache, bouncing himself up and down and grinning sharply when he's awarded with a moan from Slade.

Slade surges upright to meet him, wrapping an arm around Dick's back and yanking him closer with a gasp. Slade kisses him, swallowing the sound and stealing the air from his lungs. He continues to let Dick set the pace, but it's so much harder to do now, Dick's head swimming at the proximity and with arousal. He wants to come again. He wants to have Slade come inside of him.

They rut and grind against each other, sharing the same breath, moaning into open-mouthed kisses. Dick sees sparks when Slade's lips travel back to his neck, attacking his scent gland once again, and it doesn't take long before he's whining and coming for the second time, arching up against Slade.

From there, Slade wastes no time, flipping them both over in Dick's disorientation and beginning to fuck roughly into him. It stings a little, but Dick doesn't complain, remaining pliant and floating in the afterglow, enjoying the feeling of the powerful alpha on top of him and inside of him.

When Slade comes, he does it with a furious growl, burying himself deep inside of Dick. The warmth that blooms is an unfamiliar feeling for Dick, but not a bad one, and he wraps his legs around Slade's waist to trap him close, keeping them together as they both come down, Dick's face tucked into the curve of Slade's neck.

* * *

It's a long time later that they pull apart, wincing at the stickiness from all the cum and sweat. Dick wrinkles his nose, frowning down at himself, and watches with furrowed brows as Slade reaches over to the bedside table and presses a button of some sort.

Ten seconds later, the bedroom door opens, making Dick yelp and grab at the sheets, yanking them over himself as a beta man enters the room. Slade lounges without shame for his naked form, smirking faintly at Dick before asking the beta to draw them a bath.

"Warning would've been nice," Dick mutters, sinking further into the bed and trying to pretend like he hadn't jumped out of his skin. The bed, at least, is very comfortable.

Slade chuckles. "But keeping you on your toes is so much more fun," he murmurs, leaning over and pressing his mouth to Dick's neck, an action filled with promise that has Dick shivering. He feels Slade smile against his skin, and doesn't fight when the older alpha pulls him underneath him, lining their bodies up. "Oh yes, I'm not even close to through with you. You're mine now, Richard. And I have so much planned for the pair of us."

Dick finds, as Slade captures his lips in a passionate kiss, that he doesn't think he minds that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do if he chooses, and that is his duty; not by maneuvering and finessing, but by vigor and resolution." -Jane Austen
> 
> Comments always welcome!  
> [My tumblr](https://boyblunder-thedarkheir.tumblr.com/)


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